


Caesura

by chilly_flame



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chilly_flame/pseuds/chilly_flame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma goes on a journey in search of an exiled queen. Takes place after an implied rescue of Henry from Neverland by Emma and Regina, otherwise completely AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caesura

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Caesura](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570619) by [Dusty_words](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_words/pseuds/Dusty_words)



> This story took far too long, but I want to thank my lovely betas, Xander, Lola and Tiff for sticking with me through the slog!

**caesura**  
noun, \si-ˈzyu̇r-ə, -ˈzhu̇r-\  
a break, an interruption.  
a pause marking a rhythmic point of division in a melody.  
Latin, from _caes_ \- 'cut, hewn', from the verb _caedere_ , to cut.

\---

 **Now**  
The swaying of the horse beneath her lulls Emma to sleep; after more than 36 hours on the move, she is exhausted. Her wrists are tied to the saddle's horn just in case, since an hour or so ago she nearly took a tumble. At least with her hands secured she'll wake herself up before she ends up in the mud. Again.

Two falls isn't so bad, really, since horses aren't her thing. At least the damned animal stuck around and waited for her to get back on, instead of sprinting away as she expected him to. She has her money secured in a pack that never leaves her side, and the thing most necessary for her journey is on her hand, glowing warm and bright against her palm.

The ring.

As long as she has the ring, she'll be fine.

She dreams of slogging through mud as someone claws at her heels. The sound in her brain is like an electric scream as she kicks and scrabbles away from the hands that yank her backwards and down, backwards and down. But she just keeps trying to get away, because she has to move forward and get to the thing that she needs the most. Rather, the person she needs the most, the missing piece of herself that has kept her from being whole for the past year.

As the mud gets deeper and Emma slips further into it, the horse neighs and startles her awake. Although it's teeming rain and freezing, it's a relief to realize the dream was only a dream. Glancing around quickly, she senses no danger, and the horse seems fine as well. “Just a sneeze, huh, horse?”

She doesn't even know the horse's name. She'd taken the first steed available, because she was in a helluva hurry to get off the castle grounds. She'd meant to take Layla, the horse she'd been practicing riding for the last three months, but then again she hadn't expected more than a dozen guards to be chasing her as she made her late night escape. Sure, her plan hadn't been thought out that far in advance, but it was all the time she had, considering the date she was coming up against.

Once she realized the truth (however unreasonable it might have been), she'd had a whole seven days to circumvent her wedding, to Neal. Her supposed true love. She laughed to herself. _Right_. Whatever her reasons for agreeing to the match were a distant memory now. Maybe she was still shell-shocked from being dragged into another world. Or Neal's dedication to finding her had temporarily entranced her, especially when combined with the pressure she’d gotten from Snow and David to make him “an official part of the family.” Or maybe she just didn’t want to believe that she could love someone who had, for all intents and purposes, made her life pretty miserable for a long time.

Her journey off the rails had begun back in Storybrooke. Once the Blue Fairy got her hands on a new spell from Rumpelstiltskin (who had been dying to get back to the old world), she didn't get to make her own choice about where she wanted to live. After they rescued Henry from Pan’s clutches, Emma was just getting used to being back home and spending more time at Mifflin street when it all came crashing down. The newly formed council, which she’d been locked out of for voicing her support of Regina, made the call. One Saturday she'd been doing laundry until suddenly, she wasn't. She'd been clothed in weird princess attire, seated in a chair that was probably the most uncomfortable thing she'd ever sat in, and that was saying something. She'd looked up, and there had been her parents, looking lovingly upon her, tears practically dripping from her mother's chin. Henry had been seated next to her, hands empty as they held air instead of the PS3 he'd been playing with at the time. Then everything moved really fast, and Regina was just… gone. Emma’s new home was a castle, with Henry, and her parents. And once he’d come back into the picture, Neal made her remember how nice it was to be with someone who wasn’t afraid to be open with affection. She certainly hadn’t gotten much of that out of Regina, even after they’d become so close in Neverland.

She thinks about what Henry might be doing right now, and knows he’s rooting for her to find Regina. He hadn’t been surprised to learn she and Neal weren't really in love. Or at least that Emma isn't. Neal is a great guy, excepting the fact that he'd had her arrested in his place because she needed to suffer in order to become the fairytale savior. Besides, Henry had frequently petitioned Snow and David to visit his mother in her permanent exile, even though he'd always been denied. He had been honest with Emma about missing his “real mom,” as he calls Regina now. She would like that, Emma is sure.

She hopes she'll be able to tell her, soon. It’s hard to see more than ten feet in front of her, so she pulls off her glove and looks down at her hand. The ring glows as bright as ever. She is headed in the right direction.

\---  
 **Before**  
“Emma, just try it on,” Snow said. “It was your grandmother's.”

Emma's eyes popped open. Did she mean Regina?

“I met her, you know, before she died. She was so loving, so generous,” Snow said, lost in memory. Emma realized who she was talking about; David's mother, who had passed away just before their marriage. “She made it possible for us to have you. Did you know that?”

“No,” Emma answered. “Don't know much other than the fact that she gave birth to David.”

Snow smiled, looking down at the ring she was offering to Emma. “Well, that's true. But she gave her life so I could conceive. I'd been cursed, by King George. But your mother gave me the waters from Lake Nostos, and sacrificed her life in exchange.” Her voice was filled with tears. “We didn't have enough time with her, but I loved her. So did your father.”

Emma hadn't heard that story before. “She sounds wonderful.”

“This ring was hers. It was enchanted by Rumpelstiltskin to help David find me, his true love.” Snow gazed upon the ring, as enamored as ever. “I can't say for sure, but I think it isn't just enchanted for us. It's for all true loves.” Snow smiled, and held the ring out. “David used it, after Regina gave me the sleeping curse.” Emma put out her palm as her mother placed it there gently, almost reverently. “I thought it would ease your mind, if you wore it. I know you've been a little... hesitant about Neal. This will prove that you two are meant to be.”

Emma gripped the ring, wrapping her fingers tightly around it. “Thanks, Snow. Mom,” she added, just in case she'd seen the little spark in her eye that definitely had nothing to do with her intended. In that moment, she wasn't thinking of Neal. Not at all.

That night, she wore the ring, stone facing inward, when Neal had come by her chambers. “I just wanted to say hello, check on you, I guess,” he said, his crooked smile comforting. He wasn't out to hurt her. He cared about her very deeply, the same way she cared about him. They each saw the other as the parent of their child, the reason Henry existed. But that wasn't enough to make a marriage, certainly not one filled with love. With the pretense of brushing her hair back, she lifted her hand, eyeing the diamond as she held it toward Neal.

It didn't even glimmer.

“I'm okay,” Emma said, sliding her hand back into her pocket. “Tired, though.”

“You spend a lot of time out riding today?” Emma let her eyebrow climb in question. She and Neal hadn't spent many hours together recently, mostly because she'd been sucked into wedding plans, and Neal was just... not around for that. Lucky guy. “I asked a couple of people, that's all. Not spying or anything. I'm only curious.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, hedging the truth. “It's fun. And relaxing after all the annoying wedding stuff.” At his frown, she tried to cover. “Not that the wedding stuff isn't fun, it's just, you know, a lot of decisions about weird things, like napkins and doves and what color the flowers should be.” She shrugged. “Not my thing.”

“I get it.” He moved closer, and his scent drifted around her. It was nice; woodsy and calm. “Think you're ready for the big day?”

As she looked up into his eyes, she wanted to tell him, “No.” Instead, she just smiled, and he ran his knuckle down her cheek.

“Yeah, me neither,” he said, and she laughed. When he took her in his arms, she went willingly, sighing. He kissed her before leaving, and she closed the heavy door. When she crossed the room, she noticed the moon, shining down on the castle's grounds and the lake surrounding them. Eyes drifting shut, she chuckled at herself.

Holding the ring up, she said to no one, “Ring, point me to my true love.” She spun in a slow circle, and as the ring passed just toward the mountain range bracketing the western part of the kingdom, it... glowed, ever so faintly. Her eyes widened.

That was unexpected. Maybe there was something to this ring business after all.

She flew down the stairs, ignoring the guard at her door as he chased after her. “Princess,” he'd cried, and she just waved her arm behind her.

“Oh please, be right back, I need some air,” she said, sprinting ahead and leaving him in the dust as he called out after her.

She only went a half mile or so; it was dark, and she had no torch, but she knew the way. The blackness enclosed her, and she turned around to double check that she was alone. When she was certain of it, she lifted her hand toward the mountains.

Yes, the ring glowed. Chills blanketed her body, starting from the back of her neck all the way down to her ankles. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “I--” She swallowed. “I guess I'm a Charming after all. Because I will find you, Regina, if it is the last thing I do.”

Moments later, she heard the huffing of her guard, and his heavy footsteps. “Princess!” he called. “What are you doing?”

She hid the ring in her hand, and shoved it into the pocket of her breeches. “Told you. Just wanted some fresh air. I'm coming.”

She went into the castle that night, as the plan began to form in her mind's eye.

\---

 **Now**  
Emma roots in her pack for the last apple; she knows it’s there somewhere. She couldn’t have miscounted, could she? She’d given the horse a couple of them, because the poor thing was probably hungrier than she was after all that galloping across the countryside. She had no idea how far they’d come; she knew only that she must be getting close, because the ring was brighter than ever. She wore a riding glove over it most of the time, afraid to attract unwanted attention from animals or humans or other creatures lurking in the forest. There was magic all around her; Emma could feel it. Which meant that there could be magical beings nearby, and she could only imagine what they might do to her if they knew who she was, or whom she sought.

Regina’s exile had been total. As many individuals as Emma had asked about her whereabouts, she got an equal number of answers. No one knew the real truth except Rumpel and Blue, who had both sworn that her location would never be spoken aloud, no matter how cleverly Emma had tried to force them to reveal it. Over many months she’d used magic, wishes, logic and more, to no avail. Rumpel had even used her interest in finding Regina to try and put an end to her engagement to his son, but Neal had ignored his father’s demands.

Now she imagines that her former fiance has probably figured out why she’d tried so hard to discover the former Queen's location. Henry has surely confessed about their latest Operation. In any case, she’s lucky the weather is on her side, even though it’s making her journey unpleasant. In the end, it will be worth it.

As she scrapes the bottom of her pack with her fingertips, Emma spends a brief moment wondering if Regina is really the one. _What if she isn’t? What if this is all for nothing, and someone I've never even met is at the other end of this ring?_

Then she closes her eyes, and Regina’s face, which she has never kissed, and barely touched other than to throw a punch or two, swims up in her thoughts.

_Yep, it’s her._

Finally, she locates the apple, and bites into it. The sugar rushes into her system and eases her headache almost instantly. There are still a few grapes and almonds left too, but she leaves the bread untouched. She’ll need it if she’s on the road for much longer, and who the hell knows how many days it will take for her to reach her destination.

Her eyes are drifting closed again when she hears the sound; voices, calling to each other. Fuck. She has no solution beyond magic; if they’re using fairies to track her, she’s screwed. If not, she might just squeak by. She urges the horse off the path into the trees, the water flowing in rivers down into her jacket and cotton shirt. She wishes she had a raincoat, or hell, even a piece of plastic she could fashion into a poncho. It’s just one more thing she misses about her own world. With a little effort could have magicked her clothing into something protective, but if she screwed up, there's no telling what she might do to herself. Besides, she’s been conserving her energy for this exact situation. She will need every ounce of strength to cast a spell that she’s never enacted before, and she has one shot to get it right.

The sensation of being chased brings her back to her bounty hunting days. Even though she’s on the wrong end of it, the rush is the same. Her heart pounds, and she smiles. “Okay horse,” she murmurs. “No more chit chat, got it?”

 _I’m invisible_ , she tells herself. _We’re invisible because we need to find Regina._ She feels the power bubbling up, surrounding them in safety. It seems as though she’s looking through intense heat, the air shimmering before her like a desert mirage. Three men wearing the armor of the White Kingdom approach, and she can hear them discussing her at this close proximity.

“How the hell are we supposed to track the Princess in this weather?” one asks.

“I told you we should have brought at least one of the dogs,” the second replies. “Why didn’t the sergeant insist? We’re probably not even in the right region.” He wipes his face ineffectually and spits; Emma winces when the glob of saliva lands a few feet away from her. “The Princess has magic, you know. She probably rode out then transported away.”

“We don’t even know where she’s going, for fuck’s sake. This is a waste of time. Let’s turn back.”

The second man shakes his head. “It’s too soon, they’ll know we quit. Let’s make camp here for a bit and then go back.”

Emma’s eyes widen. _You have got to be kidding me._

The third man speaks for the first time. “No way. I’m not sitting out here for hours just because you assholes are lazy. Let’s find cover for a while and then we can turn back.”

The two other men nod in agreement and they shuffle off, horses trailing behind them. Emma stands very still, and the horse does as well; he seems to understand that this is imperative. She waits ten minutes, watching their every move as they travel further and further away. Fortunately they are going in the opposite direction to the one Emma will be headed in. Otherwise, she’d probably have to take them out, and she’s not really up for hand to hand combat at the moment. Not running on the fumes of an apple and almonds. She waits ten more minutes, just in case, and once she feels safe enough, she takes a deep breath and the spell dissipates. She’s tired now, but not so tired. She’s felt worse.

\---  
 **Before**  
Two nights after she received the ring, Emma crept into Henry’s room.

“Kid? You awake?”

“Emma?” Henry sat up, holding a teddy bear that Emma had bought in the market not long after they’d arrived. It looked nothing like the bear that he’d kept in his room back in Storybrooke, the one that Regina had given him for his fifth birthday, but it was the closest she could get. He’d celebrated his twelfth birthday eight months ago, but some things you shouldn’t have to let go of, even when you’re almost thirteen. There were nights when Emma still missed her baby blanket; she imagined it gathering dust in an abandoned apartment on an invisible street in a town in Maine that no one could see. She wondered if their old home even existed anymore, or if it had been wiped out of existence by magic. Blinking, she focused on her son as he rubbed his eyes. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she whispered, moving to his bedside quickly, quietly. “I just wanted to talk to you away from everyone.”

He blinked in the semi-darkness. “Is it about my mom?”

She nodded. They’d been talking about Operation Hummingbird for a few weeks, and Henry had been disappointed to realize that Emma had learned nothing new of Regina’s whereabouts.

“Did you find something out?”

She took a deep breath. “It’s not just that, Henry. I think --” she swallowed. “I think I’m not going to be able to get married to your dad next week.”

Henry didn’t reply right away; Emma listened to her son’s breathing in the silence. “Why?”

“He’s not my true love.”

“How do you know for sure?”

Emma showed him the ring. It wasn’t glowing, but they could see the glint of it even without a torch. “Snow gave this to me a couple of days ago. It helped David find her, back when she was under the sleeping curse. She thought it would be a nice gesture to hand it down to me.” Emma huffed a gentle laugh. “It’s supposed to glow when you’re near your true love.”

“And it didn’t when you were with Neal.” Henry’s voice was flat and calm.

“No. It didn’t.”

Henry put his hand on her arm. “What’s that mean?”

She looked out the window toward the western mountains, and beyond. “I think it means your mom’s out there waiting for me.”

His hand gripped her skin, his short nails stinging where they dug in. Emma didn’t mind. “I want you to take me with you.”

She shook her head. “I’ll need to move fast, and as much as you’re awesome on a horse, I can’t take the chance. You’ll have to stay here. We’ll come back for you, though. I promise.”

“What if you can’t? What if she’d not even in this world anymore? Rumpelstiltskin could have sent her far away--”

“She’s in this world, kid. The ring works. I know I’ll find her. And then we’ll come for you.” She put her hand over his. “Do you believe me?”

“What if you get hurt? Or killed?”

 _Better that than a slow death in this dusty castle married to a guy I don’t love_ , Emma thought. “I won’t. I’ve got magic. I’ve been practicing. I can defend myself.” Maybe.

A long minute went by, and again, Emma could only hear the gentle whistle of Henry’s breathing. He got up and went to the window, where the waxing moon shone down on the trees. He pushed open the glass, and the hinge squealed faintly. A breeze rustled through the pines as the crickets sang their evening song. “Which way will you go?” he asked.

Emma pointed west, and even that small gesture made the ring light up, as if in anticipation of her departure.

“Wow!” Henry said, grabbing at her hand. The light faded, and he looked up at her. “Are you sure it’s my mom?”

Emma smiled. “Pretty sure. I want it to be her, and that seems like it should be enough. I hope it is, anyway.”

“Me too.” He looked out toward the mountains. “I miss her.”

“I know.” Emma felt the tears gather in her eyes, and she blinked them away. She put a hand on Henry’s shoulder, comforted by the warmth of it, the solidity under her fingers.

“When will you leave?”

“In two days.”

He nudged up under her arm, the top of his head nearly brushing beneath her chin. He’d grown so much--Regina would be amazed. “Operation Hummingbird is going to be a success. Just like Operation Cobra was.”

She closed her eyes. “Yeah.” She let the words come, the ones she’d been holding back, afraid to say aloud to anyone, including herself. “I can’t wait to see her again.” She felt almost breathless with the need to look upon Regina’s face, to hear her voice.

“I bet she’s really lonely for us,” Henry said, so softly Emma could hardly hear him.

Emma hugged him more tightly. “Not for much longer, kid. We’ll all be together soon.”

\---

 **Now**  
Emma approaches a village after many more hours of riding. Her fingers are nearly numb from the chill, and her neck is so stiff it’s hard for her to turn her head. She has to sleep, even if it means a few hours on the cold ground. She would kill for dry clothes.

Normally she wouldn’t travel directly through any population, but she’s far enough away from the castle to believe that none of the villagers would recognize her as the child of Snow White. It’s not like her picture’s been circulating on the Enchanted Forest Internet or anything, and most of the residents of Storybrooke didn’t venture outside the central kingdom after their return. Besides, she looks nothing like a Princess. She is a bedraggled, filthy version of old-school Emma Swan, in desperate need of an hour or two out of the rain.

Ahead she sees horses lined up outside what looks like a tavern, and decides to take a chance. When she gets off the horse, her knees give out and she ends up in the mud, again. “Shit,” she mutters, and hopes it’s only dirt she’s fallen into. She ties the reins to the hitching post and expends the tiniest bit of magic to secure them; the one thing she doesn’t need is to lose her transportation.

She steps into the tavern's unoccupied entryway, shaking off her things and wiping her feet intently on the rug, which is already sopping wet. It does her little good, but at least she tries. Pushing open the door, she finds herself in a warm, comfortable environment that looks more like a lounge than a restaurant; there are pairs and trios scattered around benches that are haphazardly arranged. Men and a handful of women line the bar; they are not royalty but they don’t appear poor either. Emma has spent much of the last year surrounded by her family and the Royal council, but she has also gotten to know working people: the kitchen staff, the guards, and the soldiers she trains with every day.

There is a looking glass at her right. When she glances into it, she barely recognizes herself. Her skin is streaked with mud, her hair limp and plastered to her head. She looks like she’s been through hell and back. Maybe if she can get to a bathroom--

“Traveling long there, sister?” A man calls out from one of the benches. “You look like you could use a meal and some dry things.” He waves her toward the bar. “Clean up in the back, Vera will point you in the right direction. Vera!” he shouts over the din. “Take this sprite to the back before she tracks any more water in here. We’ve already had two spills tonight, and you know that Robert here can’t hold his liquor--”

“Gah,” his companion harumphs, punching the man on the shoulder. “You shut yer trap, bastard.”

“You shut it yourself,” the man replies, still gesturing toward the back of the place. “Go on. There’s food and drink if you can pay, otherwise you can just get warm for a bit. Bad night out there for someone on the road. Does your horse need care?”

Emma’s a little overwhelmed by the kindness, and suspicious too. “Yes, if that’s possible. Should I move him?”

“Nah, we’ll set out some hay by the post and make sure the trough is full of water. We’ll let you know if we need to bring him inside the barn.”

Emma grimaces. “You might have some trouble with that. I tied him up pretty tight.”

“Don’t you worry about it, sprite. Get dry now. I have a game to get back to, so you let Vera there know what you need.” He returns to a chess set on the table behind him, but doesn’t make a move. He just stares at the board, as does his game partner.

No one else speaks to her, nor do they pay much attention at all. She supposes she’s lucky that the occasional lone traveler passes through the area, otherwise she may have had a more difficult time. The woman in question, Vera, appears from behind the bar and encourages Emma forward, ushering her to a changing room. Vera is shorter and wider than Emma, and has no problem stripping off a few of Emma’s layers and hanging them alongside a dozen other pieces of drying clothing near an enormous fireplace. “Don’t you worry, dearie, these are safe and sound. This room gets awful hot and everythin’ dries right quick.” She leans back and eyes Emma, who still wears her breeches and a white long-sleeved undershirt. “How far down d’ya want to go? I’ve got a skirt you can borrow if you want to get those trousers off. Might do your legs good to get some air, since you look like you’ve been on your horse quite a while.”

Emma nearly says no, but her lie detector skills are pretty solid these days, and Vera doesn’t seem like much of a threat. She nods in agreement. “I’ll take you up on that, thank you. Do you do this for everyone who comes through here?” she asks.

“Oh, not everyone, but you’ve got a nice look about you, and you’re not armed, far as I can see,” she replies, and Emma decides not to take her boots off in front of anyone, since she has daggers stored in each, as well as knives tucked into her sleeves. “It’s a quiet night, and I’m glad to help a lady on her way. Where’re ya headed, lass?”

Emma looks down at her hands, still gloved. “West.”

Vera has her eye on the gloves as well, and her eyebrow lifts in question. “You leavin’ those on?”

“I--yeah,” Emma says, and strips off her breeches, even though they're hard to get off over her boots. Vera hands her the skirt, a flowing thing that comes down just below her knees.

“Skirt’s a lot longer on me, but on you it looks quite fetching, especially with those boots.”

“I’ll keep them on as well,” Emma says, ignoring how chilled her toes are in the wet leather.

“Ah well, whatever pleases you. Come along, now. You got any silver in that pack?”

“Some,” Emma admits. In truth she has enough silver in her bag to buy this whole place, and miles of land around it. “Enough to get where I’m going.”

“Then let’s get you some stew and a glass of whatever strikes your fancy.”

Emma feels something loosen around her chest. She’s comfortable here, for the moment, in a dry, warm place. And Regina is out there, waiting. She thinks that maybe she knows Emma is coming. That would be nice, to arrive at Regina’s home, whatever it might be, to a knowing smile and open arms. No surprises, just a welcome. That would be perfect.

She selects an open seat at the bar, and the huge hulk of a man next to her nods politely and makes room. “Thanks,” she says as she eases onto the stool. Vera is already in front of her with a bowl of some sort of stew and a slice of bread still warm from the oven. Emma salivates immediately. “Oh my god,” she says, ripping the end of the bread off and dunking it. As she takes her first bite, it occurs to her that if she cries she might freak people out, so she curbs the urge. Within two minutes half the stew is gone, and she doesn’t care what the hell kind of meat it’s made of. It’s got vegetables too, and potatoes, and her stomach rolls briefly as it considers rejecting so much sustenance.

“Anything to drink?” Vera asks, her expression pleased at Emma’s eagerness.

The temptation for a beer is strong, and she relents. “What kind of ale do you have?”

“One kind, lass, brewed right here on the land. You’ll like it.” Moments later, Emma sips from a freshly pulled pint. Vera is right--it’s delicious.

Emma goes through two bowls of stew, but stops at a single pint of ale. Whatever it’s made from has a helluva kick, and she feels the buzz right away. A glass of water in hand, she wanders over to an empty, comfortable chair near a second fireplace. She flops into it, feet stretched out toward the warmth, and looks into the flames. Regina appears in her mind’s eye, a fireball in hand, staring at Emma with heat in her gaze. “Miss you,” she breathes, and tucks her pack at her side. Her eyes grow heavy, and within moments, she’s asleep.

\---

 **Before**  
In the few days she’d had the ring in her possession, Emma hadn’t made many plans other than to get on a horse and get the hell outta Dodge before anyone knew she’d gone. The night before she wanted to leave, she ate very little, ferreting away bread into her napkin as she had dinner with her parents. She managed to get quite a bit into her lap without anyone noticing, which was a stroke of luck. A couple of hours later, she paid a visit to the kitchens and had every intention of scrounging for more, but she’d been interrupted by one of the staff preparing dough for the morning. She’d pleaded late night hunger and grabbed a few apples, as well as nuts and a little more fruit before taking her leave. She sure as hell didn’t want to make it obvious she was going on a trip, considering she was scheduled to be married in short order.

After that, she visited the one room she’d never before set foot in: the castle’s vault. It was a dark, strange place that Emma felt uncomfortable in, mostly because she knew there were people who had far less than she had, and here were stacks and stacks of coins that were property of the kingdom. Her family, for the most part, was the kingdom, so she tried not to feel guilt when she scooped up piles of silver to carry with her. She had no idea how much she might need, or even what a single coin would pay for; she knew only that she needed money, and this was what she had access to. Since the people around her paid for everything, she had little knowledge of the ways of the world. Emma felt like an idiot, but she’d rather be safe than sorry.

Later that evening, she and Henry sat together in her chambers. He helped her pack what she needed; the money, food, clothing and weapons she wanted to bring with her. “Do you really need that gross toothpaste?” he asked.

Emma nodded. “I don’t like having bad breath.” _And I’d like to be minty fresh when I lay one on your mom_ , she thought. The toothpaste was the absolute furthest thing in the universe from Crest, but it was the best she had.

“Just take those peppermints Chisholm makes for the market. Do you have any?”

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Be right back.” A few minutes later he returned with a handful of mints, and he dumped them in a little canvas sack and tied it with a ribbon. “Here.” He frowned over her collection of toiletries. “Are you seriously taking lip gloss?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “None of your beeswax, kid,” she said. She had every intention of making her lone lip gloss from Bath & Body Works (found in the pocket of her dress when they’d arrived--it made the trip even when the jeans they’d been stashed in didn’t) last just long enough for her to arrive at Regina’s. “Stay out of my stuff. I’m bringing only the essentials, anyway. If you really want to help, I’m more worried about how I’ll get through the perimeter. Got any ideas?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah! I’ve been looking at that. Did you know that when the guards change shift, there’s like, ten minutes where no one is watching the gate over by the lake?”

Emma didn’t. “Damn, Henry. That is solid reconnaissance. Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I’ve been watching. The last two nights, five guards walk back to the main sentry post, and five replace them. It takes time. You can ride out right when they’re trading places. You just have to get out of the castle, and we could probably make you a good ladder tomorrow. There’s plenty of rope in the stables.”

“Wow.” Her twelve-year-old kid was a better escape artist than she was, and she had way more experience. “That actually seems like something I could pull off.”

“I know you could. I’d even be a distraction if you want.”

That seemed like an equally solid option. “What kind of distraction?”

“I could set my room on fire,” Henry offered.

Emma laughed. “No. Not under any circumstances. Thank you, but no.”

“I could probably come up with something else,” he frowned. “I still think it’s a good option.”

“I’d rather not risk your safety, or the castle’s. I can do it on my own. Trust me, kid.”

Henry nodded. “I trust you.” With that, he awkwardly threw himself into Emma’s embrace, and sitting on the floor of her chambers, she hugged her son as if it were the last time.

\---

 **Now**  
When Emma opens her eyes, there is still quiet conversation going on around her, but it’s not as noisy as before. She reaches for the pack at her side, and finding it undisturbed, she exhales in relief. Her boots are dry even though the fire has faded to embers; how much time has gone by?

Glancing behind her, she spots Vera and the two men she’d met when she first walked into the tavern. A handful of other patrons dot the tables, some holding great flagons of ale, others nibbling on slices of round bread and cheese. Vera spots her and lifts her chin. “Good morning, lass. Have a good rest?”

Emma nods and tries to stand; the muscles of her legs and ass complain so vociferously she considers sitting down and never getting up again. Getting back on that horse in such miserable weather seems unbearable. But Regina--she wants Regina more than she wants sleep. She wants Regina more than anything. “Yes, thank you. Sorry I took up your chair. How long was I out?”

The man, whose name Emma still doesn’t know, replies, “About three hours. Long enough for the rain to stop. It’s the middle of the night, though. Can we give you a room?”

“No, I’m okay. Gotta get back on the road.”

Vera leans against the man’s shoulder in a familiar fashion and smiles. “Searching for true love, I take it?” she asks.

Emma controls her reaction, even though she makes a fist with her left hand, checking to see if the ring is still in place. It is. “Why would you think that?”

“Only because most people would take a bed over horseback at two in the morning on a wet night. You’re certainly welcome to go on your way. I’ll make up a meal for your breakfast if you want it, though. There’s not much in the way of towns out west, if that’s really where you’re going.”

This piques Emma’s interest. “Oh? What’s west of here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

A small frown appears on Vera’s face. “The mountains, of course. But you’ll want to avoid--” She turns away from Emma and looks at her companion. “ Marsten, where do you leave your packages every month?”

“‘Bout fifteen miles down the main road, and a couple more off it. You’d best stay clear of that, though. Stay on the trail.”

Something in the way they’re speaking makes the hair on the back of Emma’s neck stand at attention. “Packages?” she asks.

“That’s nothing for you to worry about, sprite,” Marsten tells her. “It’s not dangerous, but better to leave well enough alone.”

“I’m just curious. I’m--” She takes a deep breath. _Might as well go for it_. “I’m looking for someone. She’s--she’s west of here. I’m not sure where, exactly, but I know it’s in this direction. I thought you might know something that could help me.”

The three people at the table sit up straighter then, and Emma senses a threat in the air. “Who’re you looking for then?” the man called Marsten asks.

Emma has a few options, all variations on a theme. She uses the simplest version first. “Her name is Regina.” From the shocked looks on all three faces, Emma knows she’s onto something. “You’ve heard of her?”

“If you mean the exiled Evil Queen, then yes. What would you want of her?” Marsten asks.

 _She’s my true love. She’s the mother of my child. She makes me happy._ “I just need to find her. Do the packages you referred to have anything to do with her?”

Vera and Marsten glance at one another, and Emma understands that these two must be married, with their way of communicating silently in under two seconds. “Who are you, sprite?” Marsten asks her. “Earlier today we had some soldiers in, looking for a princess of the White Kingdom. They call her Emma.”

Emma clenches her fingers around the strap of her pack, ready to bolt. She won’t be comfortable without her breeches, but she’ll summon them with magic if she has to. “I don’t have anything to do with that. I’m searching for Regina.”

“The soldiers told us they believed that the Princess was looking for the fallen queen. They couldn’t say why, only that the girl was to be married tomorrow, and that her betrothed’s heart is broken.”

Emma hopes it’s not as bad as that. “What packages do you leave for Regina?” she presses. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

Vera leans toward Emma, reaching out with one hand. Emma flinches and steps back, but Vera’s fingers only take hers gently. The glove she wears is dry now, and she feels the bite of the ring’s stone against her palm. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a princess, dear. You seem just like one of us.”

Emma shoves down the anger that wants to climb up her throat. Why won’t they just tell her where Regina is? “I’m no princess,” Emma hisses. “I’m just a regular person." _I’m not even a savior anymore._ “I’m looking for Regina. Can you please help me find Regina?”

Marsten takes a breath, and with a wary glance at Vera, he says, “Last year we got a message that the Queen would trade fresh vegetables for barley, alfalfa and wine. Apparently your Regina has a taste for a nice red, but the climate’s not right to grow the grapes on her land. I import wine from the southern vineyards for the tavern, so we make a trade once a month.”

“How?” Emma asks. “If she can’t get out--”

“The magic only keeps her in. Others can come and go on her land as they please.”

That eases Emma’s mind. Maybe Regina hasn’t been so lonely after all. “So you see her?”

Marsten shakes her head. “No, not once. When I get there, the food is already bundled for transport, and I leave supplies in return. I’ve never spoken to her. I wouldn’t know her if I tripped over her.”

Emma deflates. “Oh. That’s... okay.” She shouldn’t feel so terrible hearing that; now she knows that Regina is close, so close that she might be able to see her in hours rather than days or weeks. But her heart feels empty to know that Regina could have contact with another human being and chooses not to. It’s not a surprise, but it hurts just the same. “Thank you for telling me. I’m very grateful.” Emma steps forward, her legs protesting again, but the pain isn’t so bad. “I’ll be going now.”

Vera follows her into the other room, where her breeches and leather coat hang by a dying fire. She dresses quickly, ignoring the woman who watches her in silence. When she’s nearly finished, Vera asks, “You won’t hurt her, will you?”

That’s not what Emma expected. “No,” Emma says softly. “I would never hurt her.”

“She’s the enemy of the White Kingdom,” Vera says. “Why are you looking for her?”

Emma faces Vera fully as she laces her vest. “Why does it matter to you?”

Vera shrugs, her face melting into a sad smile. “It always seemed quite sad to me, the idea of living alone forever. No one to talk with, or visit. And there’s a child she’s missing, isn’t there? The stories of the world she made--they’re probably tall tales passed from village to village, but the boy, he’s always mentioned.”

“Yeah,” Emma says, swallowing against a dry throat. “She has a son. I want to bring them back together.”

Vera seems pleased to hear that. “Ah. Why you, then, lass? A White Princess searching for a Dark Queen?”

Emma pulls off her glove, and the ring illuminates the room. “This ring is enchanted. It points to my true love.” Emma puts the glove back on quickly, so as not to draw any more attention to herself than she already has. “It’s leading me to Regina.”

Vera mustn’t see much magic in this small village; she is awestruck. “Heavens,” she says. “Good heavens.”

“If those soldiers come back, you haven’t seen me, okay?” Emma says, slipping into her coat and buttoning it all the way up.

Vera steps forward and turns the collar of Emma’s coat up against the cold. “Why, I don’t even know your name. I wouldn’t be able to tell them even if I wanted to.”

Emma nods, and reaches into her pack. She pulls out a handful of silver, and Vera gasps. “Will this cover the meal?”

“One of those would do just fine,” Vera says, unable to look away from the coins.

“Your information is worth every one of these, Vera. I’m not buying your silence--consider this a thank you for taking in a cold, wet stranger and feeding her and her horse.” She hands the money over, and although Vera is hesitant to accept it, she does. “I’m sure you’ll put it to good use.”

“I will indeed,” Vera assures her. “Thank you.” She pats Emma on the arm. “And good luck on your search. If you ever pass through this way again, you come and see us, won’t you?”

Emma nods. “And if Marsten goes to make his monthly trade with the Evil Queen and there’s nothing waiting for him, you’ll know why.”

“Aye. That I will.”

Emma is back on the road shortly after that, with bread, cheese, and according to Marsten, apples and pears grown by the former Evil Queen. Emma can’t help holding one of the apples and thinks about the effort Regina must have put in to grow and harvest her fruit. She smells the apple, imagining Regina’s scent at the same time.

Now that she’s close, the risk of success in Operation Hummingbird has set fear alight in her belly. _What if Regina doesn’t want me? What if she sends me away?_

But it doesn’t matter. She’ll figure something out. She has to.

\---

 **Before**  
Emma wore her usual dressing gown and robe over her riding clothes when she went to say goodnight to her parents. She left her boots in her room at the foot of the bed, and her bag beneath it. She was certain that she could slip out at the guard transition, just as Henry mentioned. She had plenty of time.

When Emma went to say her farewells, the door to the enormous suite her parents share hung open. Her mother was packing up her sewing for the night. “Hey. I’m going to bed,” Emma said.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. We have a big day tomorrow. Are you excited?” she asked with an eager grin.

Emma remembered then--her final fitting was scheduled for sometime in the morning. “Yeah, I’m hitting the sack early. What time is it again?”

“Nine sharp, Emma. I’m surprised you didn’t remember. Don’t you have it on the calendar?”

“Yeah,”Emma said, nodding. “You know me and schedules. I’m still kind of clueless without my phone, you know?” she added, hoping it wasn’t obvious that she didn’t care a whit about her dress fitting.

“You’ll get used to it eventually,” Snow assured her. “Come and kiss your mother goodnight.” Emma did so, and felt only a little guilty for lying so easily.

“Where’s dad?” she asked.

“Out with the soldiers tonight. They’re running some drills.”

That set off a warning bell in Emma’s head. “Drills?”

“Nothing for you to worry about. It’s standard for any Royal event. Thousands of people will be on the grounds for your wedding. It’s important for the army to be prepared.”

Emma lost her breath. “Thousands?” That hadn’t really occurred to her. She didn’t even know how many people were on the guest list.

“Of course! They’ll be waiting for you and Neal to make your appearance on the balcony.” Snow smiled. “It’s tradition. I remember when your father and I appeared the morning after our ‘official’ ceremony. It was magical. Of course the fact that the Evil Queen had interrupted it the night before wasn’t far from our minds,” she added.

“Don’t call her that anymore,” Emma said, her anger spiking. “Isn’t it enough that she’s gone?”

Snow looked up, and reached over to take Emma’s hand. “Sweetie, don’t think about Regina tonight. I’m sure she’s happy where she is. Happy as she can be, anyway. Just enjoy these quiet moments before the ceremony, because everything will be very hectic afterwards. Besides, you’ll have a husband around all the time too. Your life is about to change, and it’s going to be wonderful.”

Emma gathered up enough strength to smile. My life is about to change, Emma thought. More than you know.

When she returned to her room, she glanced outside her window. Her stomach fell through the floor.

It looked like every soldier in the kingdom was lining the perimeter of the grounds. They were milling around, mostly, but there was no gap between them, not near the lake or anywhere else. Emma’s way out was gone.

 _Shit._ She stared for a while, knowing that tossing the rope ladder out her window was no longer an option. She’d be spotted immediately. Why hadn’t she left the night before? She could still do it tomorrow, but it would be nearly impossible to pull off on the night of the rehearsal dinner (assuming that was what they called it in this world too). Shit again.

It occurred to her to simply call the wedding off. To look into Neal’s eyes, and tell the truth. To face her mom and dad and confess that she loved Regina, and that she was going to find her no matter what.

She blinked. Nope. _Better to ask forgiveness than permission._ That’s what her old boss in Boston always said. And it was goddamned true.

The rope ladder was already secured against the bedpost, strung together from thick ropes she and Henry had clandestinely tied yesterday afternoon in the stables. She’d tested it the previous evening to be certain it reached the ground, and even gone out the window and down a few feet to assure herself that she wouldn’t chicken out. As long as she hadn’t looked down, she’d been fine.

“Shit!” she cried to the empty room.

But then she heard a sound--the soldiers were shouting to one another. She couldn’t figure out what had happened until she understood one of the words: “Fire!”

Emma gasped. Henry. _That little idiot._

Someone burst into her room, and she dropped her rope ladder in a panic. But it was Henry, and he was smiling. “This is your chance, go now!”

“But the fire--”

“It’s small. It’s in the empty barn, across the field from the stables. There aren’t any animals in it, and it won’t spread. Probably.” Henry rushed over and gave her a hug. He grabbed the ladder and threw it out the window, checking for anyone who might be watching. “Go!”

Emma pulled on her long coat and her pack before kissing his forehead for luck. “If you end up burning this castle down, kid, you’re in trouble.” She hoisted herself over the windowsill and grabbed the rope with sweaty palms.

“Good luck, Emma. Find her!”

“I will.” She grinned up at him. “See ya.”

\---

 **Now**  
During the next few hours, Emma has never wished so hard to have a phone with a nice little Google Maps app and GPS installed. She rides at a consistent trot, but she’s never been very good at measuring distance. She also doesn’t have a proper timepiece, and it’s black as pitch. She suffers silently through three more rain showers, but the clouds thin as the night progresses. Although she’d prefer to keep it hidden, she uses the ring to light her way. It doesn’t help much, but the horse’s eyesight seems pretty good, because he never stumbles as they continue forward.

At some point, Emma realizes the sun is coming up. She’s only supposed to go fifteen miles; what if she’s passed the trail that edges around Regina’s land? It can’t be much after six, and something tells her she’d know if she went too far.

For a few minutes, she reaches out with her senses, even though magically speaking, she has no idea what she’s doing. And just when she considers giving up, because she feels like an absolute idiot, she feels it.

It’s like the plucking of a string on a violin. Someone she knows is near.

She pulls at the horse’s reins. Closing her eyes, she waits, listening for something. Anything. It’s silent, but she keeps on listening. It’s almost a meditation, and she has no idea how long she waits until she feels that strange ping again.

With her heels, she urges the horse forward, and a few minutes later, she spots what is surely the path Marsten has taken time and time again to make his trades with the Evil Queen. The trail is still mud, but there are deep ruts from where the wagon’s wheels must have traveled.

She has no plan now; she wants only to find the spot where the trades might have taken place. The horse sways as Emma tries desperately to see farther in the fading darkness. Eventually, the ring illuminates a spot just to the left of the trail, a squarish place without grass, but without other marks either. This might be it, which means she may have finally found the border of Regina’s home in exile. There’s no signpost warding off enemies, nor is there any spark of energy as she steers the horse off the trail. The ring starts to glow incrementally brighter, and Emma only bites her lip in anticipation.

Surrounded by nature, Emma appreciates the peace and quiet, perhaps for the first time on her entire journey. The music of crickets accompanies her as she delves deeper into the forest, and soon she hears the birds as they awaken and sing to one another. A dragonfly swoops overhead, too close for comfort, but it zooms by without incident before making a second pass in the opposite direction. The air is cool and fragrant, and the scent of rain still hangs heavy in the air. Freshly cut grass is not something that Emma spent much time noticing as a kid, but once she moved to Storybrooke, she learned to love it. That scent surrounds her now, so sweet it almost hurts. All of this is so perfectly wonderful that the idea of Regina discovering it in forced isolation is nearly too much to bear.

Soon she realizes that she’s traveling through an apple orchard. The crop is thin at this point in the season, but some trees still hold fruit. The horse walks carefully, in no hurry, and Emma reaches out and grabs an apple from a high branch. The fruit is ripe, almost too soft, but Emma takes a bite and savors the taste on her tongue. It speaks Regina’s name over and over in her mind.

The journey comes to an end after another few minutes, when Emma reaches the end of the orchard. The mountain range she’s used to steer by looms near, and as the sun rises behind her, casting long shadows, she catches a glimpse of a cottage. A minute later, she notices a wide stretch of garden alongside the house. There, kneeling in the dirt, is a woman with long, dark hair. She is clipping vegetables from the vine.

The woman’s movements are as familiar to her as her own; the way she tilts her head, the careful gestures of her hands, the grace she exhibits as she gets to her feet.

“Regina,” she whispers, unable to find the strength to make herself heard. On a second try, she says more firmly, “Regina.”

Regina hears her then. For the first time in nearly thirteen months, Emma looks into the eyes of her Queen.

\---

 **Before**  
She almost fell once, when she was starting down the ropes. Her palms were slick and her foot slipped, but she caught herself and managed not to scream in terror. After that, she moved as fast as she could, especially since she heard the voices of the soldiers in the distance. Only when she reached the bottom did she realize that Henry’s fire was in a rather inconvenient location, too close to the stables. How would she be able to saddle Layla and get on the road without being seen?

She kept her head low and pulled her hair back into a ponytail before yanking a knit cap (courtesy of Granny) onto her head. Without her hair immediately visible, she might not be recognized so easily. She ran toward the stables, and moments later, had to dash behind a tree as three men ran by her.

That was it. The stables were out. She’d never make it.

Maybe it was divine intervention. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was magic, but a horse stepped right into her line of sight, saddled and looking like he was ready to go for a nice, long ride.

She went to the animal and patted it awkwardly. She was supposed to get to know a horse before she got on it, right? That’s what the trainer said. “Hey. I’m in kind of a hurry. Can you do me a solid and get me the hell out of here?” she asked.

The horse neighed, side-stepping in a little dance that seemed to say to Emma, “Get on, I’m in.” So she got on and did a little shimmy, careful not to dig her heels in too hard. Last time she did that she ended up in a ditch with a dislocated elbow, something she did not have any intention of doing again. The horse took off, and all was going well until someone spotted her, shouting, “Oy, that’s my horse!”

“Sorry!” Emma yelled back, leaning forward and holding on.

“Who the hell is that?” the man said, and then a bunch of other soldiers seemed to appear out of nowhere, chasing after her.

“Come on, horsie, don’t stop. I’m sure I’m much nicer than that guy is. I swear.” She ducked beneath a tree branch, wondering if the horse had better eyesight than she did. “I weigh less, too. And the lady we’re going to see, she is awesome with horses. You’ll like her, I guarantee it.”

The men behind her were still shouting, and then one word rang out above all the rest: “Princess!”

“Shit again,” Emma muttered. She wasn’t great with this magic stuff, not since she came to this world, but she would try. She had to. Closing her eyes (not the smartest thing to do, but necessary), she called on all the emotion she could muster, and cast a spell to keep the soldiers away. Magic was different here than it had been in Storybrooke, and hers didn’t work the way it had once upon a time. But whatever she put into the spell must have worked, because moments later she didn’t hear the soldiers anymore. She glanced behind her and saw the forcefield in place, and the long line of men who had run into it. “Sorry,” she repeated, “but not that sorry.”

She grinned, and rode into the night.

\---

 **Now**  
Emma doesn't quite know what to say; she is breathless with anticipation and a touch of anxiety. She knows that Regina has no magic here because of the barrier around the perimeter of her land, but she isn't really afraid that Regina will lash out.

She didn't plan this part. She wants to kick herself for not coming up with some sort of speech, at least to get herself started--

"Who's there?" Regina says softly, her voice catching on the second word. Emma isn't sure if it's from the strength of her emotion, or from disuse. She doesn't seem angry. Emma thinks she might be --of all things -- frightened.

Emma presses the horse's sides with her knees, and he moves forward again. She holds up one hand in greeting. "Hi," is all she can manage.

Regina's eyes widen in sudden recognition. "I thought I felt--" she begins, before stumbling a bit where she stands, though she hasn't moved to trip over anything. She closes her eyes and sighs loudly enough for Emma to hear her, twenty feet away. "This isn't happening. Just stop it, Regina."

"Oh, it's happening," Emma drawls, turning the ring’s stone back toward her palm. Slowly she gets down from the horse, trying not to groan. "It's definitely happening," she adds, rubbing her ass where it hurts the most. _That's not romantic, dummy. Say something nice._ "I really wanted to see you, so I decided to come visit."

Regina opens her eyes once more, and the glimmer of something like hope makes Emma's heart thud in her chest. "Miss Swan--Emma?" she asks, as if slipping back into their old patterns from years ago. "Is Henry--is he--"

"He's fine," Emma says, quick to defuse that fear. "He's making as much trouble as possible, which I'm sure you'd appreciate.”

Regina hasn't moved after her stumble. She has gone very still, in fact, although her eyes move across Emma’s form. "Why are you here? Have you been exiled as well?”

Emma chuckles, glancing down at herself. “No, but I guess I look like I have been.” There is dried mud splattered all over her clothes. She touches her hair and realizes she's wearing Granny's knit cap, but if she takes it off, she'll have the worst hathead ever. "It rained kind of a lot since I left. Once I started going, I didn't want to stop. I did get a little sleep in a village last night," she says, starting forward. "Plus I found out that if you tie yourself to the saddle, you can get a nap here and there." She laughed. "Except the rain kept waking me up."

Regina's mouth opens slightly. "You rode here?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty good on a horse now."

"But it's over a hundred miles from the Castle. Why didn't you take a--" Regina pauses, and with a familiar, irritated lilt to her voice, asks, "Emma, why have you come here?"

Emma wants to say it, wants the words to pour out of herself in a perfect expression of all the love she has in her heart. Just seeing Regina makes her feel lighter; she hadn't realized just how much she'd longed to be with her again till this moment. "Here’s the thing--I was supposed to be getting married today, and--"

"Married?" Regina barks.

"Yeah, to Neal." She laughs, then tamps that down, since it's an insult to Neal, brokenhearted Neal. "I mean, it's not funny. Not at all. I heard he’s pretty upset. But you know, I don't love him. Not the way you're supposed to love a person when you marry him."

"You were going to marry Baelfire?" Regina asks, weakly this time.

“Yeah,” she says, and pulls off her hat, even though it will make her look even more ridiculous than she feels. "To be honest, I have no idea why I said yes. I was just... It seemed like it was meant to be. Henry, me, my mom and dad, all in this big castle and getting our happy endings." She smiles. "And then the happy part felt less like happy after a while. It felt... wrong. Like I was missing something really important. And everyone in this place is so obsessed with happy endings--what about the rest of the time? The middle--that's what I want. A happy middle." She shakes her head in disgust. "That sounds really fucking stupid, and if I'd thought about what I was going to say to you in advance, this would be a lot more eloquent."

A hint of the smirk that Emma has missed curves Regina's mouth. "If you were more eloquent, dear, you wouldn't be you."

Emma laughs, and laughs again, because even after a year of being on her own, Regina's still got it. Whatever it is. And Emma wants it. Badly. "Anyway, I was supposed to get married, and Snow gave me her engagement ring. There's a spell on it that makes the ring glow when you're near your true love. And what's crazy is that when I was around Neal, the damned thing didn't even shine." She takes another few steps closer. "So I went outside and asked the ring to show me where my true love was, and what do you know, it led me here." She was relieved to get the words out; now it's up to Regina to either melt into her arms or smack her in the face. It could go either way, Emma reasons.

"Excuse me?" Regina asks.

Emma holds out her hand, and opens her fist. The ring's light is so bright now it's like a beam from those giant lamps at movie premieres. _Klieg lights_ , she remembers out of nowhere. "This ring led me to you. But now that I think about it, I probably would have come to you anyway, because I don't need a stupid piece of jewelry to tell me who makes me happy. I was... afraid to think about it. Afraid to work on it. Because loving you makes everything really complicated, right? It makes things impossible, with you out here in exile, and Henry and me back at the Castle. But I'm okay with complicated now. I want it. Because I want you." She swallows, wishing her mouth hadn't gone dry as soon as she'd started this little speech. "I love you." She closes her hand, and waits for the answer.

"Me?" Regina says, a hand at her heart. "The Evil Queen?"

Exasperated, Emma scoffs. "When are you going to just get over that! Just be Regina, for crying out loud! Isn't that what you've wanted all along?"

"I--" Regina swallows, and Emma feels a frisson of hope. "Will you--say it again?"

Emma's heart jumps, missing a beat. It feels for a second like she's going to have a heart attack. "That I love you?"

Regina reacts to the words, but says, "My name."

Emma exhales in a sigh. "Regina," she says, her voice falling to a whisper. "Regina, Regina, Regina--"

Then Regina is in her arms, trembling like mad, and Emma wants to cry out in happiness, but a weird pulse of rainbow light bursts out of them both, distracting her. "What the hell was that?" she asks.

Regina pulls away, breathing hard. "I don't know." They look down at the ring, which no longer glows.

"Well that's probably good," Emma reasons. "We'd probably go blind if we had to look at the damned thing all the time."

With a slightly hysterical laugh, Regina looks up into Emma's eyes, examining every part of her face as if feasting upon it. "You look like hell," she says, but her voice is thick, and her eyes are wet. "You've never looked worse," she says with the brightest smile, as bright as the ring’s shine. And she kisses Emma, who feels the magic coursing through her, except it's not really magic. It's love. It always has been.

The kiss is so sweet, almost chaste, at least until she feels just the tip of Regina’s tongue sneak over and taste Emma’s mouth. Then she gets another bolt of magic, so strong that it feels like her whole body is tingling, and she holds Regina even more tightly. When they part, Emma is breathing heavily, and Regina touches her face with the tips of two fingers. “You’re here,” she says, panting. “You’re real.”

Emma nods.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” she says, and the mournful sound makes Emma pull her close again. “I thought you’d never come. I thought no one would ever come for me.”

“Sorry,” Emma tells her, stroking hair so long it’s down to the middle of Regina’s back. She smells just as Emma remembered, and it is beyond comforting. “Took me a while to get my act together.”

She can hear Regina inhale, and she imagines she’s gearing up to say something important. “How long can you stay?” Regina asks, and Emma is surprised at how timid she is.

Emma chuckles. “I think that’s a question for you. I’m, uh, not doing anything else for the foreseeable future.”

Regina pulls away a few inches. “What does that mean?”

Feeling uncertain, Emma shrugs. “It means I want to stay as long as you’ll have me.”

Regina swallows. “But there’s nothing here for you. Just animals and trees and the lake. And Henry needs--”

“We’re going to bring him here. And we’ll figure it out. I mean,” Emma takes a breath, “I did kind of spring this on you. If you’re not really into it, just say--” The look of shock on Regina’s face made Emma stop. “What?”

“You would leave your home, your family, for me?”

Emma’s eyes close for a moment as she hears the plea in Regina’s voice. “If you’ll have me,” she replies, her hand firming on Regina’s waist.

Their next kiss is not nearly as chaste as the first.

\---

 **Interlude**  
Emma lies on the grass with Regina next to her. They don’t speak much, but Regina seems to crave her touch. They kiss over and over, exploring with careful hands as the months of separation fall away, morphing into a natural closeness they’ve never had before. Emma wants to purr at the sensation of Regina’s fingers in her hair (as filthy as it might be).

“I need a shower,” Emma says, feeling terrible about how she must stink.

“Later,” Regina tells her, scraping short nails against Emma’s scalp as she arches her neck in pleasure.

Knees bump together, and Emma takes in that scent she’s been missing, blended with the fragrant grass and earth below them. The birdsong above is like music, and Emma is amazed that Regina has been living in paradise all this time, but had no one to share it with. After a while, they stand and make their way to the cottage, and Regina holds her hand as they wander through it. The home is big enough for three, Emma decides, since the well-stocked library could easily be converted to a bedroom for Henry. The main bedroom has doors that open out onto the grass; Emma imagines making love to Regina in the bed at dusk while fireflies light the night around them. She imagines waking up to the sound of nothing but nature, and for the first time in her life, it sounds perfect. She has always been a city girl, but Storybrooke introduced her to the pleasures of small town life, and her experience at the castle has made her long for solitude. Constant company and attention gets old fast. This silence is what she needs.

Regina never leaves Emma’s side, always keeps one hand pressed to hers.

The kitchen is tidy and spacious; Regina tells her she added this room herself with supplies the dwarves left behind. She has also bartered for wood, similar to the monthly arrangement she has with Marsten and Vera. She grows far more produce than she needs specifically to provide fresh food for the community around her. “It made me feel like I was part of something,” she explains, and Emma nods in understanding. “After a few months, being alone was… unpleasant.”

“But Marsten said he never met you,” Emma says, and it’s posed as a question.

“I didn’t want to frighten off potential business. I leave the supplies at an agreed upon location, and get what I need in return,” she says.

“But what if they just took your stuff?”

Regina smiles. “The people of this village are honorable. Thieves wouldn’t make a deal with me, they’d just come in and take what they wanted. But that hasn’t happened, even though they know that I have no magic.”

Emma recalls what Vera said about Regina--the sympathy in her eyes as she thought of the lonely queen. “Maybe for your next trade you’d go out to meet them. The pair from ‘The Thorny Dragon’ was really cool.”

“Mm,” Regina says, nodding. “Their wine is quite good. And their grain has made me quite a few friends.”

Emma tilts her head, examining the wood-burning stove that Regina cooks most of her meals on. There’s an enormous spice rack in the corner, with all the glass containers meticulously labeled in Regina’s neat hand. “Friends?” she asks, curiously.

“Horses, some other wildlife,” Regina says, going to the window and pointing. “Your horse seems to be getting to know a filly who has been coming around of late. She’s quite pretty. He has good taste.”

Emma approaches the window, noticing the glass is a little cloudy. No Windex in this world, Emma remembers. Out in the grass, a small tan horse with a blonde tail shakes her head at the big steed she rode in on, and she remembers that he needs some care, otherwise he’ll be in a world of hurt later. He doesn’t seem too upset though, grazing and sipping from a trough Regina has set up near a fence. if there is a fence door, Emma suspects she never locks it, much less closes it. “Will you help me take care of my horse out there? I feel awful for leaving him strapped with my stuff.”

“Of course,” Regina says, and she seems happy that Emma has thought of an animal before her own comfort. In reality, Emma would like to bathe and crawl into the bed that looks shockingly comfortable considering the mattress is probably homemade. They amble outside and Regina makes friends with the horse whose name she never learned, and the filly nibbles at Emma’s hair. Another horse wanders in too, and Emma realizes that Regina’s got her own Dr. Doolittle compound set up. Bird houses and feeders hang from branches on some of the smaller trees, and there’s a round stone bath filled with rainwater. After a moment, she spots little birds coming and going from the house nearest to her.

“Are you keeping sheep and pigs too?” Emma asks, kidding.

“Next spring, I think,” Regina says, not picking up on Emma’s teasing tone. Apparently it’s not a joke. “I’ve considered building a pen by Christmas, so I’m prepared well in advance.” Regina keeps on brushing the horse, so Emma just nods.

“Cool. I never knew you were so into animals.”

Regina’s smile fades. “They’re good company,” she replies. “There’s a wolf who comes through every couple of months. I wish he’d stay, but he’s only here a few days before he disappears again. I used to wonder if he was reporting in to your friend Red with news of the Evil Queen’s downfall.”

“I don’t think so, but you never know, I guess,” Emma says, laughing. “But she probably would have told me if she was keeping tabs on you. We--” Emma swallows, remembering that she’s already told Regina that she loves her, and that it doesn’t matter if she reveals her feelings. “We talked about you now and then. Of everyone back at the Castle, she’s the one I would have trusted to tell about leaving to find you. In the end I didn’t think it was a good idea.” She presses a hand to her horse’s neck, and he turns to her, bumping her cheek with his. “Maybe we could get some dogs.”

“Perhaps,” Regina says. From the look on her face, Emma senses that she has said the right thing.

Soon they make their way back into the house and Regina declares she will make Emma a meal, because she must be starving. Emma shrugs at the idea. She is hungry, but she’s not picky either. Regina pours her water and offers a sliced apple to whet her appetite before stoking the fire in the oven. As Emma sits at the small table, fit for one, she watches Regina sway back and forth in front of the stove. Only then does she really take stock of Regina’s appearance; she wears a soft, gray dress that swings at her calves, belted at the waist, with soft leather flats. Everything looks well worn and comfortable. With her long hair and no make up, she looks less like the Mayor than she ever has. Emma misses that woman a little, but she’s still here, somewhere inside the sadness that has taken hold in Regina’s heart. It probably won’t take long to bring that fire out. Emma will be patient.

“Your home is really pretty, Regina,” Emma finally says, breathing deeply and smelling a familiar scent in the air.

“I’m glad to have someone to show it to,” she says in return.

Emma stands and goes to her, kissing the sensitive skin of her neck. “I missed you,” she says softly, hands creeping around Regina’s waist.

Regina’s fingers thread through Emma’s, and with her other hand she flips a perfect grilled cheese. “Your lunch is ready,” she says, tipping the sandwich onto a plate. As Emma nuzzles her ear, Regina slices it into two triangles, and her breathing is the only sign that Emma is having any effect on her. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I am,” Emma says, her fingers trailing down to slide along Regina’s rear. Only this could draw Emma’s attention away from food. “For lots of things.”

Regina turns in her arms and then they’re kissing again. “You know after you eat,” she says, between kisses, “I have a shower out back. It’s not modern, and the water won’t be warm yet, but you can get clean. There’s a tub, too, but I thought you might prefer the shower.”

Emma presses her lips to the corner of Regina’s jaw, just beneath that soft, soft earlobe. “Sounds nice,” she says, drifting in a haze of arousal and pleasure.

“I’ll wash your hair for you,” Regina says in a whisper, and Emma feels her insides melt like honey.

“Sounds like heaven,” she corrects herself.

\---

When Emma opens her eyes, sunlight dapples the pillow next to her head. Everything is sore, from the muscles of thighs to her ass to her shoulders. She also suspects there’s a bite on her neck that’s going to bruise; she touches where it throbs, and yep, that’s going to leave a mark. When she turns her head, Regina is there, hovering, watching. She smiles hesitantly, and Emma nudges closer to her, pulling her arms around her. “What time is it?” she murmurs.

Regina laughs softly. “I don’t really keep track. I wake with the sun and sleep when I’m tired.”

“That makes sense,” Emma says. “I didn’t bring the watch my dad gave me. I’ll get it when we pick up Henry.” She takes a deep breath. “I guess we should talk about how we’re going to do that.”

Trailing one hand along Emma’s bare belly, Regina says, “I have some ideas.”

Emma arches under her touch, eager for it again already. “What kind of ideas?”

Regina looks away, toward the kitchen, and Emma feels like she’s gathering the courage to tell her something. “When you first touched me this morning, something happened. I’m not certain of the extent of it, but you may have broken the spell holding me here.”

“You’re kidding! That’s… wow. But why? It wasn’t a curse, was it? And I didn’t even mean to break it.”

“It is, in fact, a curse. The fairies just don’t call it that. That call it a protection spell, but you and I both know that they have their own agenda. Their truth is not universal.” Her wandering fingers brush against Emma’s chest, trailing along her collarbone. “Beyond that, I have magic again,” she says carefully.

“Seriously?” Emma grins. “Are you certain?”

Expecting Regina to snap her fingers and produce a fireball, Emma feels her heart turn over when Regina holds out a closed fist, opening it to reveal a perfect gardenia bloom. “Yes, I’m certain.”

Emma holds out a hand and touches the flower, soft as Regina’s skin and just as fragrant. “Jesus, who knew you were such a romantic?”

“Only for the one I love,” Regina says, opening her hand wider to transform the blossom into a hummingbird, forcing a gasp from Emma. The bird flits close to Emma’s face, then darts toward the open doors out into the evening.

“Hummingbird…” Emma says, picturing the boy in the castle who is waiting to see his parents again. “That’s what Henry called our plan, you know. Operation Hummingbird.”

Regina’s mouth opens, and the breath she takes is long and deep. “He really knew you were searching for me?”

“Yeah.” Emma rests her head on the pillow, her eyes drifting shut now and then. “For months. We tried for a long time to get information on where you were but kept coming up empty. It took the ring for me to actually figure out how to find you myself.” She lifts her shoulders, trying to open her chest and loosen up the aching muscles. “I’m sure if Snow had realized what she was doing when she gave me the ring, she would have made a different choice. Too late now,” she smirks.

Looking down at the path her fingers take, Regina asks, “And you really would have married Neal, if that hadn’t happened?”

Emma thinks long and hard about that very thing; the past months are a dream now, lying here in Regina’s bed. This seems more real than those days ever did. “I don’t think so.” She shakes her head. “Even if I’d made it down the aisle, I can’t imagine the word ‘yes’ coming out of my mouth. My heart wasn’t in it.” She remembers the happiness on her mother’s face as she witnessed the very public proposal Neal had sprung on her all those months ago, and recalls the out of body sensation of saying, “Yeah, okay,” because what the hell else was she going to say in front of half the castle?

“Your family won’t let you just leave, you know,” Regina says. “They’ll send an army to bring you home.”

“They already tried,” Emma laughs. “I wish them lots of luck. Between my magic which is totally fucked up, and yours which is back in business, I think we can protect ourselves.”

“What do you mean your magic is… fucked up?” Regina echoes, the curse words sounding strange in her voice. Emma has never heard her curse with anything beyond “damn” or “hell.”

“I mean it doesn’t really work that well. I never got very good at it back in Storybrooke, then we got here, and you got sent away, and the fairies tried to help me but it was kind of a 50-50 shot most of the time,” she explains. “Getting here it worked, though. I did a couple of spells and they all turned out right. Huh. Maybe I just needed you on the brain,” she adds, and as the words are coming, Emma thinks maybe it’s not funny, and that she really needs Regina to get her magic to function.

Regina’s mouth curves faintly, and she nods. “That happened to me too, in Storybrooke, remember? More than once.”

Emma thinks back, to when the portal opened and took her to the Enchanted Forest. And then again, when together their forces crushed the failsafe that would have destroyed Storybrooke. “Maybe magic was telling us all that time that we needed each other, and we just weren’t paying attention.”

“Perhaps,” Regina says, pressing her palm to Emma’s. She closes her eyes, and Emma watches as little sparks start to fall from the ceiling, like a shimmer of gentle fireworks.

“Am I helping you do that?” she asks, her voice low and dark.

“Yes,” Regina says, and when she rolls back into Emma’s arms, the sparks continue to fall.

\---

In the morning, they get dressed together in the dim light of dawn, Regina in her gray sheath, Emma in a fresh pair of breeches Regina loans her. They are a little short, but the boots hide that. The birds sing, and Emma wonders if she will ever tire of how peaceful it is here. From the kitchen window, Emma watches hummingbirds zoom around the small feeder across the paddock. Regina scrambles eggs fresh from a local farm (another trade) and pours them both fresh apple juice, alongside coffee and toast with the most incredible butter Emma has ever tasted.

She considers the way her ankles tangle with Regina’s under the too small table, and wonders if this is the reason their simple breakfast is one of the best of her life.

“We’ll need a new kitchen table,” she says, licking her fingers free of crumbs when she’s finished.

“Mm,” Regina says, tilting her head as she looks down at the worn circle of wood. “Yes,” she says. The small crinkles at the corner of her eyes are the only visible hint of the smile that Emma can hear in her voice.

Emma follows her out into the garden, where she learns how to pick the zucchini and squash when they are the ripest, allowing for delivery out to the towns around Regina’s land. The carrots and potatoes are next, and Emma eyes what looks like artichokes and--she grimaces--brussels sprouts. Regina smirks when she sees Emma’s expression. “If you don’t appreciate brussels sprouts, you’ve never had them cooked properly,” she explains.

“We’ll see,” Emma counters, giving the vegetables the side eye.

They walk further into the garden, which is really more like a farm, since the patches of crops go on and on. Regina has a small parcel of land to call her own compared to the castle’s grounds, but when Emma turns around to look for the house (their house now), it seems a mile away. Not long after, Regina steadies her when she trips over a vine, and Emma realizes she’s stumbled into a pumpkin patch.

She starts to laugh. “Are you kidding?”

Regina shrugs. “I have a lot of time on my hands,” she admits, bumping her shoulder against Emma’s. She opens her mouth to speak again, but the words come haltingly. “ I--I thought the children in the village would like it if I invited them for All Hallow's Eve, but their parents might be too afraid to allow them to come, even if I stayed away.” She swallows. “They all know who I am.”

Emma thinks about how Halloween has always been Henry’s favorite holiday, and is amazed that Regina has been able to survive the loneliness without him. “They trade with you, don’t they? I bet they’d be happy to bring their kids here.” She makes it a point to get this to happen. She even bets that Marsten and Vera would help, Vera in particular. “Don’t assume everyone hates you, Regina. This isn’t Storybrooke. And it isn’t the old Enchanted Forest. Things have changed, for all of us.” For a moment she is distracted by the scarecrow in the center of the patch, dressed in a buttoned shirt, dark blue trousers and straw hat. Long strips of colorful fabric hang from the outstretched arms, waving in the wind. “Do you actually need that scarecrow, by the way? I thought that was just a Halloween thing, something from the movies.”

“Yes, it works, and without magic, I needed it. I didn’t use one on the first try and ended up having to replant.” She takes Emma’s hand, pressing the tips of their fingers together, still unable to keep from touching her. “I’ll make the costume more interesting if the children come. But not too scary. I don’t want to frighten them.”

Emma bobs her head. “Henry will love this,” she says.

Regina takes a deep breath. “I hope so.”

When they get back to the house, Emma doesn’t have any idea what time it is, but her stomach informs her that it’s hungry, so they have a lunch of apples and nuts and cheese, with more of the fresh bread that Regina bakes from scratch. She feels incredibly lucky, and vows to learn to cook. With a kitchen staff at the castle, Emma has gotten spoiled and lazy. That ends today.

“If I got exiled, I’d have starved to death,” she says. “Or frozen. You built a room, planted a farm, and made a home. You’re amazing.”

"I made a house, not a home." Regina’s expression is a confusing stream of emotion--sadness, hope, fear. It takes her some time to reply. “At first I told myself it didn’t matter. That I could be happy, or at least survive, alone. I certainly hadn’t made many friends over the last thirty years.” Emma watches as her eyes fill, and aches for her. “Other than you, and Henry. I told myself to fill the time, and I did. Growing things, caring for the horses, the birds. I didn’t count the days. But when the apples ripened, I knew time was passing. Henry was growing older, you were moving on, enjoying your lives without me.” A tear slips down her cheek, and Emma feels wetness gather in her own eyes. “It became more difficult. I let go of hope.” Regina’s mouth crumples, and she lets out a choked sob. “Then you came. And you’re still here.” Regina moves from her seat to Emma’s, falling into her lap. “Don’t leave,” she whispers, gripping Emma so tightly it hurts.

Emma hangs on. “I won’t.”

When Regina’s tears dry, she is embarrassed. Emma isn’t. She kisses her hard, and takes her to bed.

\---

In the evening, they decide to try.

“Do you have anything of his with you?” Regina asks as they sit inside a circle of ground marjoram and basil that makes the house fragrant with spice.

“Not really.” Emma goes through her pack, finding a collection of loose almonds, her silver, and toiletries she never used on her journey (including her lip gloss, which she immediately applies). “Oh!” She pulls out a small canvas sack. “He gave me some peppermints. They’re not actually his, I guess, because some guy at the castle makes them, but he wanted me to bring them instead of toothpaste.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “He hasn’t changed a bit,” she mutters, and Emma keeps her chuckle to herself. “This could work. I just need something he’s touched recently.”

“He gave them to me a few days ago,” Emma says.

Regina inhales, placing the now open pack of mints between them on the floor. “Take my hands.” Emma follows instructions. She waits for Regina to set a fire or something, or start chanting in a weird witch language. But she doesn’t. “I want you to think of Henry, and how much you love him.”

Emma pauses. “That’s it?”

Regina opens her eyes, and the arch of her eyebrow has just enough attitude in it to make Emma feel a glimmer of arousal. “There is no spell that can summon a person who does not wish to be summoned. If there was, I would have had a much easier time defeating your mother,” she smirks, “But if Henry truly wishes to be with us, with both of us, this could work. Together, we are very, very powerful.” Licking her lips, Regina reminds her, “I should think you know that by now, don’t you?”

Emma feels a second flash of heat in her body, centering between her legs. “Yeah,” she croaks, her mouth like a desert in seconds.

Regina’s lips purse, and Emma tries to tamp down her raging sex drive. “You’re supposed to be thinking about Henry, not about me,” Regina chides.

“Then stop looking at me like that,” Emma says.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m an idiot.”

Regina’s eyes brighten. “You are an idiot.”

“And for some reason, that makes me want to get into your pants, so cut it out, why don’t you?” Emma complains.

That makes Regina laugh, and then Emma laughs, and Regina leans over to steal a kiss. “My idiot.”

“Uh-huh.” Emma pecks her on the cheek, tightening the grip on her fingers. She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “I think I’ve got it together now. Just don’t arch your eyebrow at me.”

“Noted,” Regina says, her brows flicking just momentarily before smoothing out into even lines. “I want to see my son, dear. Our son. Won’t you help me see him again?”

That does it for Emma, and she relaxes completely. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. All I have to do is think about him?”

“And hold my hands,” Regina adds.

Emma can do that. “Got it. Just tell me when to start.”

With just a tinge of uncertainty in her eyes, Regina drops her chin. “Now.”

They hold hands, and Emma starts to drift in memories. She thinks about Henry, all the way back to the moment when she gave birth, but was too afraid to see him for fear of changing her mind. She thinks about the first time she laid eyes on him in her old apartment, right after she made her wish to not be alone on her 28th birthday. She remembers the way his chest expanded with life and breath after she kissed his forehead and broke the curse. She remembers his tears seeping into her clothes when she and Regina rescued him from Neverland, and brought back to the home he grew up in on Mifflin Street. She thinks of the happiness in his eyes when Emma declared that she was going to find his other mother, and how much she couldn’t wait to see him again so they could all be a family.

And when she opens her eyes, Henry is there, making their circle of three instead of two.

\---

 **After**  
The torches light the whole way from the house to the pumpkin patch. Dozens of families make their way from the apple orchard toward the patch, bigger this year, with a few scarecrows dotting the field. They’re all in black, flowing gowns, topped off by elaborate hats. Emma has no idea where Regina got her over the top fashion sense from, but even when it comes to scarecrows, it cracks her up on a daily basis.

The corn maze is already crowded with kids and adults, and Emma smiles as she hears small screams of glee from within. Emma and Regina tested the maze out earlier that day just to make sure it wasn’t too difficult. When they took their sweet time emerging, Henry chased them down, and Emma only spent a few minutes pulling hay out of her hair and clothes afterwards.

Emma spots Henry lumbering through the field in his homemade Iron Man costume, painted armor clanking as his knees bang together. He is with a couple of his schoolmates from the village, and it amazes her how much he’s grown in the last year. He reminds her a little of Neal sometimes, even though she tries not to think about that very much. She hasn’t seen Neal once since she left the castle, even though everyone knows where she is now. When Henry goes for visits, they’re brief, and Neal’s heart isn’t in it much anymore. That hurts both Henry and Emma, mostly because Henry has realized that Neal only stuck around the Enchanted Forest for Emma. He likes being a dad, but he never got into the nuts and bolts of fatherhood, especially since he knows his kid would rather be with his moms. He gave up without a fight.

This is not a surprise to Emma. He’s always given up easily, since the very beginning. She wonders if there’s ever been anything in his long, long life he’d really fight for.

Emma feels warm, even breaths at the back of her neck, and decides to stop thinking about Neal. Because she’d fight for the woman at her side, to the death. And Regina would do the same for her.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Night’s going pretty good,” Emma says, enjoying the play of Regina’s fingers against her wrists.

“Indeed,” Regina replies. “Your guests have arrived,” she adds, and Emma hears all sorts of things in the words; a little fear, hesitation, and of course the ever present hint of disgust.

“You going to be okay?”

“Of course,” Regina says, but her year of solitude has not left her, even now. Snow is the one who sent Regina away, and no matter how smug the former queen is about having drawn Emma and Henry close, those memories will not fade. And although the fairies can’t curse her a second time (Emma is relieved that they’re bound by some magical version of double jeopardy), she still feels the threat of her presence. “Your mother is in her full regalia,” she says.

Emma lifts an eyebrow. “Well, it is Halloween,” she replies. “I prefer your costume.”

“Of course you do,” Regina says, running her hands down the skintight black leather, cut just low enough to be presentable. A black utility belt sits comfortably on her hips, hung with holsters for guns that are only carved, painted wood. Her hair is temporarily, to Emma’s pleasure, a vibrant red, and shorter than usual. “No one knows who we’re supposed to be, but a few minutes ago someone asked when I was going to put on my costume,” she says, a satisfied smile on her face. “My reputation precedes me.”

“As long as Henry’s happy, I don’t care, Ms. Romanoff.”

Regina smirks, thrusting her decolletage forward in what Emma perceives as a totally obvious come-on disguised as a stretch. “I find your ensemble surprisingly appealing. I always did have a soft spot for handsome blonde demi-gods,” she says, a hand finding it’s way to Emma’s hip, suspiciously close to her ass. At least it was covered (mostly) by the cape.

“Thor’s a full god, Regina, get it together. Henry would kick your ass for not knowing that.”

“Whatever,” Regina murmurs, their lips closing in on each other when Emma hears two throats being cleared. Emma jerks back with an apologetic look.

“Hey, guys. I mean, Mom and Dad,” Emma says stiffly. Those terms are still not easy coming from her lips, but she makes the accommodation out of guilt. She left their home and lives here, in the middle of nowhere, with a woman they deliberately tried to keep in exile. Things haven’t exactly gone smoothly between them all over the past year and change.

“Emma,” David says, kissing her cheek, and acknowledging Regina with a nod. He’s too polite to completely ignore her. “Regina.”

“Hello, David,” Regina says, and Emma instantly rolls her eyes.

“You may call him Your Majesty,” Snow barks, eyes flashing in rage. She doesn’t even pretend civility. Emma can’t blame her.

“My apologies,” Regina says, because Emma has warned her repeatedly. It’s one night, and you won’t have to see them again for two months. “Majesty,” she adds, because she can’t quite follow directions.

Emma can’t blame her either.

“Hey,” Emma says, eager to break the tension. “Glad you came. Really. And your costumes are--wow.” The white fabric they both wear is threaded with silver, but Emma doesn’t recognize who they are.

“These aren’t costumes,” Snow says in seriousness. “And I didn’t realize this was a dress up party.”

Emma tries not to let her irritation show. “It’s Halloween, American-style. We’re making it a tradition here. Besides, it was right on the invitation, didn’t you read it?” Henry took a week to design the thing, and he and Regina made every flyer (all three hundred) by hand.

Snow’s mouth opens, but she can’t seem to reply.

“Tell Henry you’re dressed as Frigga,” Regina suggests. “David, you are Odin. You just need a--” She raises a hand as if to perform a spell, but remembers to ask permission. “May I?”

Snow nods, as does David, both a little stunned by Regina’s generosity. Snow’s dress is turned to gold in a puff of magic, and David is given an eyepatch, a scepter and a headpiece that Henry will definitely recognize.

“Who are we again?” Snow asks.

Regina repeats herself in a huff, and Emma takes her hand. “He’ll be disappointed he decided not to be Loki,” Emma says.

“Next year,” Regina decides. “And perhaps I will be the Hulk,” she adds, her tone revealing her disapproval. Emma holds up the hand in hers and kisses it, forgetting about the one thing she had sworn not to wave in her parents’ faces.

But it’s too late. They both see it.

The ring. It’s on Regina’s finger, secured in place by a narrow gold band that matches the one on Emma’s left hand. She was supposed to tell them gently, while they were alone. She was supposed to make it sound like it wasn’t any big deal.

It was a big deal, though. The biggest. Henry was there, as were a bunch of people from the village, and a few people from the Forest, too. Red came, and Archie. Of everyone from Storybrooke, they seemed to understand Regina the best, and forgave her the most quickly. The ceremony was held under the apple trees, with branches draped with white silk as flower petals fell all around them. Their paradise smelled of the fragrant blossoms of spring, and it was the sweetest, most perfect day in Emma’s memory.

Her parents had not been invited. She had worn her ring on a necklace during her last visit home.

Regina senses that it’s time to go. She grips Emma’s hand more tightly for a moment before pulling away and nodding to Snow and David. “Emma, I’ll see you at the bonfires in a few minutes. Don’t be long, Henry will be waiting.”

Emma swallows. “Yeah,” she says weakly.

“Emma, how could you?” her mother snaps, her voice filled with accusation. “My ring. Your grandmother’s ring.”

Emma knows that this might have broken her relationship with her parents irrevocably.

“And now it’s my wife’s ring, and one day we’ll pass it down to our son.” Emma doesn’t add “or daughter,” because Regina has finally agreed to at least talk about another kid. Their lives in this faraway place are only as busy as they make them. Gradually, Emma has found herself more open to the idea the longer she spends living with her family. Their unit could easily expand, and the only people who wouldn’t like the idea are her parents.

“Why in the world didn’t you tell us?” David asks, his frown revealing genuine hurt.

“Because it was easier,” Emma says simply. “I hate disappointing you, and I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You lied to us?” Snow asks. “How long have you been--” It takes her a couple of seconds to get the word out. “Married?

“Not that long. A few months.” Five months, more like, but Emma doesn’t bother providing an exact date. She barely pays attention to dates anymore, or times of the day. Before Henry started school it was hard to even keep track of Saturdays or Sundays. Everything just blended together, and they did what they wanted when they wanted to. “But I want to say something though, before you go off on me.” Emma has been waiting a long time to say this, and it’s a little unfair to ambush her parents, but there’s no time like the present. “I used to be so angry, about the bullshit fairytale thing, and destiny, and not being able to choose my own fate. That’s something it took a long time for me to come to terms with. And I don’t really want to go into it all right now with you, because this is supposed to be a party, and apparently one of the traditions here is to walk around a bunch of bonfires, and I promised Regina we’d do that together.” Snow’s face is a storm at Emma’s dismissal, but Emma continues anyway. “All I’m saying is that my future is Regina. Your ring told me that. She makes me happy, so I don’t really care anymore about fighting fate just for the sake of fighting it. I’d have chosen Regina whether she was my destiny or not.” She inhales and says what she hopes will be her last words on the subject, at least for now. “We’re married. That’s it.”

Her mother doesn’t want to let go; Emma can sense this right away, but as he usually does, David puts an arm around his wife and calms her with his touch. “All right, Emma,” he says, rocking Snow a little in his embrace. “All right.”

“I love you guys,” Emma says, in the hopes of not completely destroying their evening. “I do. I want you to be happy for me.”

Snow is not happy. That is plain to see. “We are,” David says, kindly. “I want you to be happy. It’s my greatest joy, to know you found love. Since the day you were born, and every day in between, it’s what I wanted for you. Love and happiness.”

Emma goes to him then, because he’s her father, and she really loves him, even if sometimes it’s weird that he looks more like her brother instead of her dad. “Thanks,”she murmurs, through tears that she swallows down. “Sorry,” she adds, because she can’t help herself.

“Don’t be, kid,” he replies in a whisper, and she grips him more tightly. “Never be sorry for love.”

He started calling her kid when she began visiting the castle with Henry, after she ran away. She’d never say it out loud, but it makes her feel more like a daughter than anything else he’s ever done.

Snow’s hand comes to rest on Emma’s shoulder, and that makes it all right. Everything hasn’t been broken beyond repair. She grabs it and exhales, relieved beyond comprehension.

“I love you, Emma,” Snow tells her, kissing her temple. “We’ll talk more later,” she adds, and Emma realizes that whatever discussion she’s put off will still happen, but at least it won’t be on a holiday during a celebration. Regina has no interest in visiting the castle, so on Emma’s next trip home she’ll have plenty of time to hear all her mother’s complaints about her choice of spouses.

“Great,” she says, because she’s got to give them both credit. “And um, thanks.”

They stay close for a little longer, until Snow asks, “Weren’t you supposed to meet Regina near the bonfires?"

“Right,” Emma says, glad to be done with the conversation, for now.

As they walk she sees familiar faces, some of whom stop and greet her with more enthusiasm than either of her parents might have expected. She and Regina and Henry have become a part of the village, from helping at Henry’s school, to trading their harvest (and sometimes giving it away), to stopping in town at the Thorny Dragon. And when she sees Regina waiting patiently with Henry at the entry to the maze, she is proud of what they’ve made together.

“Awesome!” Henry says, stumbling toward them in his armor. “Your costumes are so cool! Odin and Frigga--how did you know we were going to be the Avengers?” he asks.

Her parents don’t quite know what to say, but Regina replies for them. “We sent a bird ahead of time, so they could surprise you, dear.”

“That is so cool,” Henry says. “Your headpiece is sick, Gramps.”

“Thanks, Henry,” David replies. “Glad you like it.”

“Did you do the maze yet? It’s pretty fun. I’ll go through it with you guys if you want,” he suggests, his voice a note or two lower than the last time he saw his grandparents.

“That would be nice, Henry. Everything looks very beautiful,” Snow says, looking at the grounds. The house isn’t far away; Emma considers showing it to them later, since they’ve never been here before.

“Mom did the maze, and we made the bonfires with a bunch of the people from town. They’re going to burn for three days. Are you guys staying for the whole festival?”

Her parents turn to her. “Well,” David begins, looking for guidance. They hadn’t talked about how long they’d stay, except that they’d booked one of the nicer rooms in town overnight. It was too far to ride back to the castle, and they don’t use magic to travel like Emma does.

“You can if you want,” Emma tells them. “We’ll probably be kind of busy, since there’s some stuff planned tomorrow. I won’t be able to hang out that much, but I’d be glad for you to stick around. No pressure.” Emma isn’t lying about being busy; tomorrow they are doing all sort of things Regina has scheduled for the kids and the adults. Emma has never experienced Regina in her full-on PTA Mom mode before, and it is a marvel. But it also seems to Emma like those who arrived tonight are gearing up for a three day party. Beyond the villagers who live nearby, more travelers have set up camp in the fields, and from the way the wine and ale is flowing, this evening’s event will likely go on till morning.

Emma is kind of jealous. Maybe she’ll get to join in tomorrow night, assuming everyone isn’t hungover.

“We’ll see, Henry,” David says, and Emma nods in agreement. As long as Snow and Regina don’t end up at each other’s throats, they can stay, but Emma has no problem telling her parents when they’re no longer welcome. Her loyalty is not in question, which is the only reason Regina agreed to send them an invitation.

“Let’s do the maze, Henry. You’ll help us get out if we’re trapped, right?” Snow asks.

Henry rolls his eyes. “You can’t get trapped, I know the way out. Mom, after that can I go around with the guys again?” he asks.

Regina purses her lips, but there’s no way she’ll deny him. “I don’t want you eating too much candy, dear. We have a full day tomorrow. And please keep your eye on some of the younger children. It’s dark and we don’t need anyone crying because they’re lost, all right?”

“I got it,” Henry replies, standing a little straighter at the reminder of his responsibilities. “See ya, Moms.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows at the two of them, taking the hands of Snow and David and pulling them along into the maze.

Beside her, Regina lets out a long, deep breath. “Are you all right?” she asks.

Emma just takes her hand and squeezes.

When the night grows darker, the fires burn bright as people toss more kindling into the flames. Regina joins them, throwing four sticks, one at a time, into the smaller fire near the mountain range Emma always uses to get her bearings. This festival isn’t just about candy and costumes, not for Regina or for the other villagers who linger in circles around the bonfires. Emma can tell Regina is remembering absent loved ones, and Emma hopes that this will bring her some peace. There will be more memories for both of them tomorrow, and the day after. Maybe this new tradition will be something they can all look forward to, for its joys as well as its fleeting sorrows. And maybe next year her own parents will be able to focus on happier memories instead of painful ones. Emma certainly plans on that.

She waits for Regina to step back from the flames before she interrupts her train of thought. “Hey, can I get you a flagon of cider?” she asks.

“That would be nice,” Regina replies. “Miss Swan,” she adds with a sly grin.

Emma licks her lips and takes her by the elbow. It’s been a while since she’s heard that. “Come on, your majesty. We’ll both have a drink before we make some magic.”

“Mm,” Regina hums. “Make sure you save some extra for me, dear. For later,” she says, as if Emma needed any help with that. When she thinks about Regina, her supply of magic is inexhaustible. Together, their resources are never depleted. They know this from experience.

“I always have enough for you,” she says, and the humor leaves her face. She has enough of everything when Regina is around. Even if she’ll never completely grow out of feeling like an abandoned orphan, or like she’s not the best person, or even a very good mom. What Regina gives her is enough.

And when Regina’s eyes soften, blinking slowly as embers crack and sparks rise up into the sky, what she gives Emma is everything.

the end.


End file.
